The West Side Story of the Wizarding World
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: This is a Ron/Hermione ship based on the classic musical. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Dementors vs Phoenixes

**Chapter 1: The Dementors vs. The Phoenixes**

The Wizarding side of London was at its usual hustle and bustle. Wizards raced up and down the streets in long robes, going wherever their personal business took them. Nothing seemed amiss; it was just an ordinary day.

But trouble was indeed brewing. Two warring clans were threatening to tear the city and the wizarding world itself apart. Though Voldemort had been defeated a few years prior, an age-old feud had been rekindled through the dealings of these two factions: the issue of blood purity.

The Dementors was a wizarding gang that only accepted pure-bloods. It mostly consisted of the children of former Death Eaters and other servants of Voldemort. The gang believed that Voldemort had had the right idea to purge the wizarding world of all beings who were not born of two wizards.

The Phoenixes was the opposing gang. It consisted of many former Dumbledore's Army members and received its creed from the mission of the former Order of the Phoenix, the latter of which had melted away into a token security force for the Ministry after the fall of Voldemort. The Phoenixes believed in the rights of half-bloods and Muggle-borns to have access to the wizarding world, and the gang almost consisted exclusively of such beings. In their group, the slang term Mudblood was viewed as a racial slur and anyone guilty of saying it was charged with a capital offense, in their eyes.

On this particular day in London, the Dementors and Phoenixes were fighting over territory. It was deemed that the more territory a gang had, the more power.

Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived and Chosen One who had destroyed Voldemort, was leading the Phoenixes through the streets, searching for any signs of trouble from the Dementors. They finally found some when they encountered Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle writing something under a Phoenix graffiti sign. They were using Muggle chalk to make the graffiti read "Phoenixes Stink." Furious, Neville Longbottom, Harry's lieutenant, charged the two Dementors. Fellow Phoenix Dean Thomas followed close behind.

In another part of the city, Phoenix Collin Creevey was keeping an eye out for any signs of trouble. He finally encountered a statue made of paper-mache. It was a makeshift statue of Voldemort, created by the Dementors. Smirking, Collin set to work vandalizing the "monument." He hadn't been at work long when he felt someone behind him. Turning, he saw Dementor Vincent Crabbe and the gang's leader, Draco Malfoy, eyeing him. They were clearly not amused with his art project. Collin turned tail and ran, the two Dementors following close behind. He hadn't gotten very far when another appeared. Then another. And another. Surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered, Collin ran around and around a blacktop, screaming for help from his gang brothers.

"Hey Phoenixes! Phoenixes! Phoenixes!" he yelled as Dementors converged on him to deliver his doom.

All at once, more bodies burst into the blacktop. The Phoenixes had answered their friend's call. A mass wizard duel ensued, but after a few wands got broken, it soon devolved into a furious fistfight.

Suddenly, screechy noises filled the air. Ministry Auror Kinglesy Shacklebolt was rushing up to the blacktop, shooting sparks from his wand and blowing a Muggle whistle. His partner, Deputy Head Auror Deadulus Diggle, followed close behind, clearly winded from running.

"What's going on here?" Kingsley boomed. He didn't even have to use a Sonorus spell to get the warring tribes' attention. He also didn't give Harry or Draco a chance to explain before continuing, "If I ever catch you out here disturbing the peace again, it's Azkaban for the lot of you! Now get out!"

No one moved for a moment until Draco gave a jerk of his head. The Dementors filed out, some daring to glare at Kingsley. The Phoenixes pretended to act all grateful to the Aurors for interfering, but as soon as Kingsley and Deadulus had left, many started ranting.

"I hate those Aurors for always pushing into our business," fumed Seamus Finnigan.

"Not as much as I hate those damn Dementors!" clarified Neville.

"Everybody calm down," ordered Harry. "I have a plan to solve this once and for all. We're gonna make our move- tonight at the dance at Hogwarts."

"But we can't get down and dirty with the Dementors at Hogwarts!" protested Dean. It had long been established by both sides that Hogwarts was a rare swath of 'neutral' territory for the two gangs.

"No, you prat, we're not gonna fight at Hogwarts. I'm gonna go there and ask Draco for a war council at the Leaky Cauldron after the dance tonight." The Phoenixes eagerly started pestering their leader with questions, but Harry held up a hand. "In order to do this, though, we're gonna need Ron's help." Ron Weasley was a co-founder of the Phoenixes and Harry's best mate. However, he had recently taken a job at the Leaky Cauldron and had therefore had to take a leave of absence from the gang. Harry needed his help because, although the Leaky Cauldron was also considered 'neutral,' it wasn't always easy to convince Tom, the bartender, to let them use the pub for gang business.

"Aw, who needs Weasley?" said Michael Corner.

"We need Weasley!" Harry shot back, jumping down Michael's throat. "Have you forgotten all he's done for the Phoenixes? Remember when we took down the Threstrals?"

"Saved my bloody life at that rumble," said Terry Boot, reaching up to his neck at the memory from a long-ago fight with a long-extinct wizarding gang.

"See what I mean? Ron's always come through for us and he always will!" Harry affirmed. "I'll got talk to him this afternoon about joining us for the dance." Heartened, the Phoenixes continued on their way, determined to conquer the city for their cause.


	2. Chapter 2: Something's Coming

**Chapter 2: Something's Coming**

"What do you mean you can't go?" Harry asked in disbelief later. He looked down at his watch. "Tom lets you out in plenty of time, doesn't he? You could make it!"

Ron just smiled at his best mate as he hauled a crate of butterbeers down the stairs to the Leaky Cauldron's basement. The youngest Weasley boy- in fact, his entire family- was an exception to the Phoenixes rule of membership. The Weasleys were a very prominent pure-blood family, yet sympathized with the Phoenixes' blood equality cause. For this, other pure-bloods had shunned them, labeling them "Blood traitors."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I've taken to closing up the pub for Tom. He's been feeling over-worked these last few weeks." He paused on the steps in between making trips with the crates. "I've haven't been doing so well myself, to tell you the truth. I've been feeling a certain sensation lately."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What sort of sensation?"

Ron just shrugged. "I don't know. A feeling that something's coming. I just don't know what it is."

"Okay, but the point is Tom should feel rested by now! Come on, ask him to close up for you, just for tonight. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Ron, I already told the boys you'd be there. If you don't come, I'll be marked as a prat." When Ron didn't answer, Harry pestered. "Come on, Ron, do it for me, old pal! For Harry!"

Ron sighed as he set down another crate. "What time does the dance start?"

"9:00."

"9:00 it is!"

Harry grinned broadly and held out his hand. "Wand to retirement?"

"Cradle to grave, and I'll live to regret this." Replied Ron, shaking it firmly.

"Who knows? Maybe that something of yours we'll be shaking it at the dance tonight." Harry teased as he ran off to tell the gang the good news.

Ron watched him go, contemplating what his friend had said.

* * *

In another part of the city that evening, Hermione Granger was checking herself out in the mirror. She was pestering her friend, Pavarti Patil, to cut the hem of the dress she had made for her down one inch.

"Come on, Pavarti, I feel too pure with it this length. One little inch?" she pleaded.

Pavarti was a pureblood and Draco's girlfriend. She felt very protective of Hermione. Nevertheless, she frowned before saying "A quarter of an inch."

"Half," Hermione bartered.

"Done," Pavarti agreed and set to work.

Just then, Draco entered the room. He coyingly goosed Pavarti, who gave him a playful swat in return. With a smile, Draco looked Hermione up and down. Hermione smiled back at him. It was hard to believe that just a year ago, she had been walking around London when Draco and some other Dementors had started harassing her about her Muggle-born status. Their provoking went a little too far and Hermione had boldly challenged Draco to a wizard's duel. After she had landed him in St. Mungo's with a week's-worth of injuries, the Dementors had made an exception to their pure-blood rule of membership and had given her and her parents special protection. She and Draco were like bother and sister to each other now. The gang had even found her a "boyfriend": Dementor Cormac MacLaggen, who now was craning his neck around Draco to get a look at her. Hermione liked Cormac well enough, but she didn't love him.

"What's this I hear about inches?" Draco asked warmly.

"Parvati's just cutting the hem of my dress by a half," Hermione explained.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And why may I ask?"

"Because this is my first real dance as an of-age witch," replied Hermione and she began to playfully twirl around the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Tonight, Tonight

**Chapter 3: Tonight, Tonight**

Later that night, there was plenty of twirling to be had as the Dementors and Phoenixes danced in the Hogwarts Great Hall. Though both groups were having a great time, there was still tension in the air; the gangs refused to dance with each other. This was made clear when Ministry officials surpervising the event tried to make the two groups dance a "get-together dance" as one big group. It started off well at first, but quickly devolved into a dance-off mambo between the two groups.

This was the atmosphere Ron observed as he arrived at the dance and greeted Harry warmly. Meanwhile, from an entrance on the other side of the hall, Hermione arrived with Cormac on her arm. While Cormac went off to grab a drink, Hermione watched the dance from the sides.

Suddenly, she noticed a shock of red hair through the crowd. Her eyes lowered to see the owner's face. Was that…Ron Weasley? Yes, it was him! She had been good friends with him and Harry Potter during their Hogwarts days, but after the war, they had lost contact. Ron also noticed Hermione from across the room and was thinking similar thoughts.

Instantly, the room seemed to vanish around them. They were the only two left in the world. Ron and Hermione floated towards each other, as if being dragged together by a magnetic pull. Finally, they stood face-to-face.

"Hermione, is it really you?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled. "Always the tone of surprise," she teased, remembering an inside joke from their childhood. She felt her heart flutter when Ron gave a short laugh in recognition. "How are you, Ron?"

Ron smiled back with his usual lop-sided grin. "At the moment, happier beyond words." He tried to explain himself when she looked at him quizzically. "For the longest time, I felt… I sensed… I _knew_ that something was bound to happen, had to happen." He paused before adding, "I just didn't think that something would be seeing you again."

Hermione's heart once again went into a sort of tap-dance. "You're really happy to see me? You're not joking?"

Ron stared at her, serious now. "I don't know how to joke like that."

Hermione gazed into Ron's eyes. _He has the most beautiful blue eyes,_ she thought. She vaguely sensed that she and Ron were slowly leaning towards each other. She could feel his breath on her skin; Ron could see the details in her eyelashes. The world slowly started to return around them, now dancing regularly. The pair could now feel the heat radiating off each other's bodies…

Ron and Hermione's lips had just barely touched for an instant, two, when suddenly, Ron felt hands roughly grab him and tear him away from Hermione.

"Get your hands off, blood traitor!" Draco roared. "Stay away from my sister!"

"Malfoy? Sister? Hermione, what's going on?" Ron asked, thoroughly confused. But Draco was no longer listening. He was too busy chastising Hermione.

"Couldn't you see he's one of them?" Draco asked angrily.

"No," Hermione said flatly. "I saw only him."

"There's only one thing those Phoenixes want from a pure-blood, even an honorary one!" Draco lectured her.

"That's a lie!" Ron shouted, angry himself now.

Draco whirled on him. "She would listen to her adopted brother before she listens to you," he spat. By now, Dementors and Phoenixes were approaching to see what the matter was. Ron moved toward Draco, but Harry cut between them in the nick of time. "Look, if you two characters wanna settle this outside..." he suggested. But he was now interrupted by a Ministry official.

"Gentlemen, please, please, everything was going so smoothly!" the official begged.

The crowd dispersed as well as the main parties, but not before Harry told Draco to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron later that night for a war council. Draco readily agreed, as he now had a new bone to pick with his gang's nemeses. He and Cormac led Hermione out the door.

Ron watched them go, dazed. All that he could think of was Hermione's name. He found himself floating out after them. He had never noticed her beauty before, at least when they were children… he had kissed her…and she had kissed him back. Something had indeed come; this was it! He was in love. Even her name sent chills through him- it was the most beautiful word he had ever heard uttered.

He now broke into a run, jogging through the streets of London, calling her name. "Hermione! Hermione!" he cried. For a long time, there was no answer; he had not expected one. Yet, he was also somewhat distraught inside- London was a big city; how was he supposed to find her again? Just when he had about shouted himself hoarse after running around most of the night, he was surprised when his chant garnered a response.

"Hermione!"

"Shh!"

Ron whirled around and there she stood in her nightdress, on a fire escape just above him. She looked like an angel.

Ron's smile was so huge and his happiness at seeing her so obvious, you would have thought he looked deranged.

"Hermione!" he said with joy.

"Quiet!"

They regarded each other for a moment lovingly.

"Come down!" Ron encouraged her.

"No."

"Hermione!"

"My parents will wake up," she explained.

"Just for a minute," Ron begged.

"A minute is not enough," she said sadly.

"For an hour, then."

"I can't."

"Then forever!" Ron practically shouted, eliciting another shush from her. "Then I'm coming up," he decided with determination. He ran for the fire escape's ladder as Hermione ran around to a window to meet him. Ron guessed that the window led to her bedroom. Just then, a voice called from inside.

"Hermione!"

Ron was still scaling the steps as Hermione called in as calmly as she could, "One moment, Dad!" Ron was halfway up the last ladder now, his head poking through the hole in the grating. Hermione turned to face him; not wanting to wait a second longer, Ron took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately, taking her by surprise. Both melted. A guttural groan flowed from Ron's mouth to Hermione's, as though he had just tasted food for the first time after being deserted on an island. Fearing that someone might hear, Hermione reluctantly squirmed away and shushed him again. Ron just flashed her that lop-sided grin and copied her motion teasingly.

"It's dangerous! If Draco knew…"

"We won't let him know. I'm not one of them, Hermione!" Ron assured her, not wanting his history with the Phoenixes to get in the way of his love.

"But you are not one of us," Hermione reminded him, eyeing him knowingly. "And I am not one of you, not anymore."

"To me, you're all the beautiful-" Ron began, but Hermione put her hand to his mouth just as her father called again. "Bookworm!" he cried. Hermione assured him through the window she was coming and was relieved that a curtain obscured the window. She stood aside to let Ron finish climbing the ladder and led him over to the fire escape's balcony.

"Bookworm?" Ron asked, taking her hand.

Hermione just smiled in embarrassment. "His pet name for me," she explained. Ron laughed as he sat down on the fire escape's railing. "I like him already. And he will like me," he told her.

Hermione's eyes widened in fear and she shook her head slowly. "No. He is like Draco. Afraid." She paused and then broke into a smile. "Imagine, being afraid of you," she giggled.

"You see?" Ron said, elated, his case proven.

Hermione blushed. "I see you," she admitted shyly.

"Oh, Hermione, see only me!" Ron pleaded, as though the magic they had learned all these years could blot out vision and all other senses.

Hermione nodded. The next hour or so was spent affirming their love for each other, whispering sweet nothings to the other.

Late in the night, Ron remembered suddenly about the war council. He didn't want to go, but felt that he had a new reason to do so. He gave Hermione a quick kiss goodnight.

"When can I see you again?" he asked her.

"I work with Pavarti Patil in Flourish & Blotts. Come at closing time, I will be on the evening shift," Hermione instructed.

Ron nodded. He gave her one last kiss, then rapidly descended the fire escape and disappeared into the night.


	4. Chapter 4: War Council in the Cauldron

**Chapter 4: War Council in the Cauldron**

While Ron and Hermione were meeting together in secret, Harry and the other Phoenixes were outside of the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. They were grumbling about how their friend had yet to show up.

"Maybe the Dementors got him," worried Ernie MacMillian.

"If he doesn't get here soon, Tom's gonna close up shop," added Seamus.

"Ron's not the only one who's running behind," Neville reminded everyone. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Draco played us when he said he and his buddies would be here."

"I'll bet he's scared," Collin proclaimed triumphantly. Nobody immediately concurred, so he turned to Harry. "Whatcha think, Harry? Harry?"

Not even the Phoenixes' leader answered as he stared at a point off in the distance. Two figures on broomsticks were approaching. Kingsley and Deputy Head Daedulus came into view.

"Oi, Potter! What are you and your mates doing loitering out here? Dance is long over. Go home, why don't you?" Kingsley hollered.

Harry pretended to be polite. "But, we can't go home, sir. We don't get any love there. It's such a bad environment." Here, his mates had the good sense to concur.

Kingsley frowned, but did not press for an explanation. "Go home, kids. And don't let me catch any of you punks round here again, or else." With that, he and Daedulus flew off.

Harry seethed. He hated it when Aurors meddled in his business. But, the others tried to laugh it off. Ernie took a rolled up Daily Prophet and beat Collin over the head with it. "And don't let me catch any of you punks around here again," he threatened in a pretty good imitation of Auror Kingsley. The charade seemed to cheer Harry up and it also helped pass the time while waiting for the Dementors and Ron.

Soon after, Tom came out to shut down the pub. Though it would have been ideal to have Ron there by now to appeal to the old man, the Phoenixes still managed to convince him to stay open just a little while longer. Tom reluctantly agreed, knowing full well what the venue was being used for, but luckily, no one else was inside drinking at this late hour. As the gang took its seats, Tom made an appeal of his own.

"Please fellas, do you have to fight? I've had customers complain about the ruckus in the streets. You don't want the Ministry involved, do you?"

"Screw the Ministry!" Dean told Tom. "They got better things to worry about, hunting down the last of those damn Death Eaters. And yet, we still got Shacklebolt and Diggle on our case. They should just beat it!"

Tom said nothing more. Moments later, the bell over the door jingled to signal new arrivals. Harry looked up and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Didn't think you were gonna show," he told Draco.

Draco mockingly bowed in his direction. "Wouldn't miss the chance to have it out with little Saint Potter," he drawled. "Let the Council begin."

Everyone pushed two tables together and grabbed a chair.

"Okay, first up, location." Harry offered up.

"The river. Thames." Cormac suggested.

"Too open," Neville shot it down. "Forest of Dean?"

"Too dense," Blaise pointed out.

"I know," said Seamus. "How about the ballcourts under the highway bridge? There's still enough space, but it's concealed so our nosy Auror friends won't know to look there."

"Highway bridge it is," Draco ruled.

"Next up: weapons," Harry said.

There was a tense silence here. No one seemed to know immediately what was appropriate. Though no one had to say it, this was to be the rumble of all rumbles, so much thought was necessary. The decision on what to use for weapons had to be the right one. Finally, the gangs each offered a suggestion in a rapid, back-and-forth succession.

"Wands."

"Knives."

"Bats."

"Guns."

"Hammers."

The screechy sound of chairs pushing back could be heard as both gangs leapt at each other, ready to fight then and there over the simple disagreement of what they should fight with. Thankfully, Harry motioned for everyone to freeze and sit. At that moment, Ron rushed into the pub.

"Ron! There you are, mate. Come here, we're trying to decide what weapons to use for the rumble." Harry said, quickly filling him in.

Ron goggled at him. "Who needs weapons? Who needs a rumble?"

Everyone stared at him. "What ails you, mate?" asked Neville.

Ron was about to say, ' _The most beautiful girl I've ever known,_ ' but stopped when he caught Draco staring at him, a chilling sneer on the Slytherin's face. He clearly remembered Ron as the boy who had kissed Hermione at the dance.

"What I mean to say is… you all are chickens. Who needs weapons and a rumble when you can have a good ol' fist-fight?" He turned to Harry, hoping someone would back up his idea. "Come on, Harry. Whaddaya say? A nice fist-fight, one-on-one. I helped you by coming to the dance tonight. You should return the favor."

Harry briefly pondered the proposition, then agreed. "You in, Draco?"

Draco nodded. "On one condition," and he pointed at Ron. "I get to duke it out with Weasel-bean over here."

Harry, clearly also remembering the incident from the dance, balked. "No way. Your challenger will be picked at my discretion. You fight whomever I choose or we don't fight at all. Besides, Ron won't be there anyway. He normally works late here at the pub after closing time." That last part was a lie, but both Ron and Tom were smart enough to not challenge it.

For a moment, Draco looked as though he wasn't going to cave either, but just then, Goyle came running over from the window. "Diggle's coming this way! Ditch the evidence!"

The gangs scrambled to make it appear as though they were hanging out together, drinking butterbeers and playing Exploding Snap. Moments later, Diggle walked into the pub.

"Well, isn't that nice? Instead of fighting, you're playing cards with each other. I'm proud of you boys," Diggle said, although something in his gaze left the boys wondering if their latest charade was a success. The fake calm was shattered as Diggle suddenly slammed his fist down on a table. "Alright, party's over! This joint should be closed by now anyway! Malfoy, you and your pure-blood robots get the hell out of here!"

Draco knew better than to mix it up with a Ministry official, especially an Auror. He and the other Dementors filed out, whistling the Ministry of Magic anthem as they went.

As soon as the door had slammed shut behind them, Diggle turned to the Phoenixes. "Alright, boys…now I know you wasn't here all night playing Exploding Snap. Where's the rumble gonna be, huh?" It took all of Harry's power to not give away anything on his face. Diggle continued. "Come on, fellas, I'm on your side! You honestly think I'd support those stuck-up elitists, those so-called Dementors? Now, listen, if you tell me where this thing's going down, then I'll make an appearance. I'll help you fight 'em off myself, shall I? You won't even go to prison."

All of the boys were thinking the same thing: could Diggle really mean that? Would he really come into the fight on their side? But, no, it was safer to not trust a Ministry official, so no one said a word. Even Ron was silent, for he didn't want to upset his best mate.

When the silence became almost unbearable, Diggle went off on a rant again. "I can't believe you bums! I offer my help and still you sit mum! You're nothing but a bunch of punks, I don't care what you did during the Second War! And your parents were no better." He circled the gang, now singling some out individually. "Your daddy still drown himself in this joint, Finnegan?" he asked. Seamus didn't respond. "How's the action on your mum's mattress, Dean?" Dean also remained silent, but his hands were shaking from anger. "Bet it's never cold," Diggle added as an afterthought.

That did it. Dean suddenly lunged at Diggle in a rage and Diggle whipped out his wand. Harry and Neville pounced on their friend and practically had to hold him down to restrain him. Diggle just chuckled. "Fine, let the Dementors trash you, but don't come crying to me when they do!" He marched out of the Leaky Cauldron in a huff. When he was safely out of sight, Harry and Neville released Dean.

"I swear, if I ever see that git again, I'm gonna stick my wand up his bloody-"

"Everybody knock it off!" Harry roared. "Forget Diggle, we got bigger fish to fry. Now let's get ready so we don't get caught tomorrow night with our pants down!" The Phoenixes filed out, each thanking Tom for leaving the Cauldron open. Ron stayed behind.

"Promise me one thing, son." Tom asked Ron.

"Anything, Tom." Ron replied.

"Promise me you won't go to this little throw-down. I know as well as you do you don't work the late shift, but I wasn't about to say that in front of the Malfoy boy. Stay away, for your own good, no matter how close you are to Harry Potter."

Ron smiled. "Don't worry, Tom. You won't see me down there. I'll be spending tomorrow night with someone more important."

"Who?" Tom asked curiously.

"Hermione Jean Granger- the smartest, prettiest, most wonderful girl I've ever known!" he screamed, wanting the whole world to hear.

Tom nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning. "Hermione? Are you mad? Why, she's in tight with the Dementors- Malfoy protects her like a sister; she's the only Muggle-born they let near 'em! No wonder Malfoy was looking at you like that! Oh no, oh no…"

Ron just laughed. "Draco knows I kissed her at the dance tonight, Tom, but he doesn't know I'm seeing her! You won't tell him, will you?"

"Of course not, but just remember what I said. You be careful, Ronald Weasley, and you make sure your sweetheart is too!"

Ron nodded and bid Tom goodnight before exiting the pub. Tom stared after him. He couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot worse.


	5. Chapter 5: Two Hearts Beating as One

**Chapter 5: Two Hearts Beating as One**

The next afternoon, Hermione was working her shift at Flourish and Blotts. The store was where students got their schoolbooks, but also ran a small boutique in the back that specialized in wedding attire. With her was her good friend Pavarti, along with a few other girls she knew from her Hogwarts days. While working, Hermione took chances to glance at the various books in the shop, then moved on to the clothing section, trying on different outfits and looking at herself in the mirror. The other girls watched, amused. They began to tease her.

"What has Cormac done to her? Confunded her or something?" Katie Bell wondered aloud.

Hermione, too happy about the new developments in her life, decided to play along. "Cormac? Why Cormac?" she asked mockingly.

"Maybe she's just showing off for us," Pavarti's twin, Padma, suggested.

"Katie, Padma, can you keep a secret?" Hermione asked. The girls rushed over to her, eagerly awaiting what she would tell them. After a moment's pause, Hermione announced, "No, I won't tell you."

The girls resumed their teasing. "She seems to have lost all those magnificent brains of hers," mused Katie.

"I certainly have! I've gone insane!" Hermione declared, flaunting another dress.

"Maybe you're right, Padma," agreed Katie. "She looks not quite herself."

"I do?" asked Hermione.

"And I think she's definitely keeping something from us!" Katie added.

"I am?"

"I do? I am? She's talking like one of those Muggle parrots! What's the matter with you Hermione?" asked Padma, completely giving up.

So Hermione went on to explain to them how she felt different, beautiful, needed. In short, she implied she was in love, but did not mention with whom. Finally, Pavarti came back to tell them that the store was about to close and that the girls should go home for the day. Padma and Katie quickly packed up and left. However, Pavarti and Hermione got into a dispute over who should close up the shop.

"Hermione, I'm always the last one out of the store."

"No, you go on, Pavarti, I'll lock up," Hermione insisted, not saying that the real reason she was staying behind was to wait for Ron.

Pavarti finally relented. "Alright, fine. It'll give me more time to get ready for my date with Draco after the rumble-" She stopped, realizing what she had just said, but Hermione noticed.

"Oh, Pavarti, please don't tell me Draco and the others are fighting with Harry and his mates," she pleaded.

Pavarti bit her lip. "They are, dear, but-"

"But what? Why do they have to fight?"

"It's just short temperament, Hermione. Try not to let it worry you."

Just as Pavarti was about to leave, Ron rushed in through the back door. "Am I late?" he asked, then stopped short when he saw Pavarti. Clearly, he was in fact early.

Pavarti's eyes narrowed. Like Draco had the night before, she recognized Ron too. Then, she broke into a mocking grin. "No, you go on, Pavarti, I'll lock up," she imitated Hermione's comment from earlier. She turned to Ron. "And what are you doing here? Don't you have any sense at all in your head, your own two feet on the ground?"

Ron disarmed her with his lop-sided grin. "We're not on the ground. We're 12 feet in the air," he said proudly as he lifted Hermione off her feet, both of them laughing. Their eyes were only for each other. When Ron had set her down again, Hermione pleaded with her. "Please, Pavarti, don't tell Draco what you've seen. You won't tell, will you?"

Pavarti was silent for a moment. She could see that the two were in love. Then she sighed. "How can I see what's 12 feet over my head?" she asked. Ron and Hermione grinned in gratitude and Pavarti left, but not before warning Hermione that she should be home ASAP.

As soon as Pavarti was gone, Hermione turned to face Ron. "Is there really going to be a rumble tonight?"

Ron stared at her. "How do you know that?"

"Pavarti told me just before you arrived."

Ron nodded. "Yes, Hermione, you heard true. But it isn't a rumble. Not anymore. It's just a fair fist-fight now. That's all it is. I convinced Draco and Harry to arrange a one-on-one, flesh-on-flesh." He smiled. "They'll be fighting each other with their bare hands. How much damage can they do?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard of a neck getting snapped?" She sighed. "Ron, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything, love."

"Promise me you'll go and stop it. I don't care if it's just a fistfight, I don't want a fight at all. Please, promise me."

And because all he wanted was to make her happy, Ron said, "Alright, love, I promise."

Hermione smiled. "Love? I rather like it when you call me that."

Ron grinned. "Well, what else can I call you? I love you, Hermione. I…I want to marry you."

Hermione's smile grew broader and she coyly walked away from him, leading him to the back of the shop. "Well, you know, if you want to marry me, you'll have to ask my father." She suddenly seized a mannequin that was dressed in a gentleman's clothes and began talking to it. "Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Ronald Weasley," she said, introducing Ron to the mannequin. Ron flowed with it. "May I have your daughter's hand?" he asked the Daddy mannequin, bowing to it dramatically. "He says yes!" squealed Hermione, and Ron shook hands with the mannequin's sleeve.

Hermione grabbed another mannequin, this time dressed in a woman's clothes. "Mother, is it alright if I marry Ron?" she asked. A pause and then, "She also says yes!" Ron kissed the lady mannequin's hand in gratitude.

"And now for the wedding!" cried Ron, getting into the performance now. Hermione plucked a third mannequin from the rack and began talking to it as if it were Pavarti. "Pavarti, you look gorgeous in pink," she trilled, as she made the Pavarti mannequin help her put a veil on her head.

"Here, we are, Harry." Said Ron, as he fiddled with a mannequin dressed in a tuxedo. Their set building done, the couple stared at the mannequins around them. There was a pause, and then the play continued with the wedding ceremony. The two shared their vows and kissed as the sun began to set over the horizon.


	6. Chapter 6: The Rumble

**Chapter 6: The Rumble**

That night, the Dementors and Phoenixes were preparing for the Rumble under the highway. Harry had selected his lieutenant Neville to battle Draco. Ron was blissfully wandering around town, waiting for the time of battle- 10:00 p.m.- to draw near so he could head for the highway to stop the fight. At first, he tried to think of a strategy to halt the bloodshed. When he couldn't think of one, his thoughts turned to Hermione, his love, and how he couldn't wait to return from the fight-that-never-happened to be with her. Hermione was thinking similar thoughts. Pavarti was also in lover's mode, preparing for her date with Draco after the rumble. Finally, 10:00 arrived.

* * *

The stretch of blacktop underneath the highway bridge was surrounded on all sides by a mixture of fences and stone walls. From the top of one tall stone wall bordering a strip of court, Harry appeared. He glanced furtively around before whistling out a simple tune. Phoenixes began to appear beside him and then drop to the court below. On the other side of the court was a fence. Draco appeared, and he and his fellow Dementors scaled the high fence like cats. The two gangs regarded each other from across the court. Finally, Harry stepped into the center and cleared his throat impressively.

"Ok, now, shake hands," he instructed. He motioned for Neville and Draco to come forward. Neville obeyed his leader's command, but Draco didn't move.

"Why?" the latter asked, clearly suspicious.

"Well…that's the way it's done, buddy boy," Harry explained.

Draco plastered on a fake smile. "Ah, more gracious traditions. Look, every one of you hates every one of us and we hate you right back. Let's get at it!" The two gangs huddled up for a brief moment to discuss strategy. Then, Neville and Draco began to circle each other like tigers locked in a cage. Neville put up his fists first, followed by Draco. The gangs began to call to their respective representatives words of encouragement….

Ron arrived at the highway. The time on his watch read 10:03. He hoped he wasn't too late. He slipped under the bridge and ran. Up ahead, he could see Draco getting into his stance and raising his fists. He and Neville began to take quick jabs at each other, but before either one of them could hit their target, Ron was climbing the fence on the third side of the court.

"HOLD IT!" Ron cried out, as he swung his legs over the fence and dropped to the ground. The fight abruptly halted. Most of the boys looked confused, except for Harry, who was surprised/scared that his friend had decided to come, and Draco, who looked as though Christmas had come early.

"Ron!" called Harry. "Come here with us, you'll get a front row seat," as he motioned for Neville to resume. But, Ron instead intercepted Neville and tried to push him back.

"No!"

"Ron, what're ya doing?" asked Seamus.

"Maybe he's found the guts to fight his own battles," suggested Draco with a sneer, hoping this was the case. Ron turned away from Neville to face the Dementor leader.

"It doesn't take guts to have a battle, and we don't have one, not any of us. Okay, Draco?" he explained, holding out his hand as if to shake it. Ron had decided on this strategy on the way over, and even though it seemed too simple, he figured its directness might do the trick.

He couldn't have been more wrong. Draco was now more eager than ever to fight, only this time, with Ron. Disgusted that Ron was giving up before they had even begun, Draco punched Ron in the arm and pushed him to the ground.

"Hold it!" yelled Harry, now diving in before things escalated with his wrong combatant. "Now, look here, what are you playing at? We agreed that this would be a fair fight between you and Neville," he admonished Draco. The Phoenix leader helped Ron to his feet and began to guide him back amongst the gang. Draco observed this exchange with scorn.

"Mother hen protecting the little one," he mused, before pointing a finger at Ron. "I'll give you a battle, blood traitor!"

"You've got me," growled Neville, leaping forward to challenge Draco. Needless to say, he was annoyed when Ron blocked him again. "No!" the latter protested. Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. "It's okay, I'll take Pretty Boy as a warm-up," he assured Neville, the nickname of course referring to Ron.

"Pretty, pretty boy," Draco continued to Ron's back. "Afraid, gutless. Afraid, chicken!" He gave Ron a slap on the arm. Harry, meanwhile, was beginning to lose his patience, and moved in to confront Draco himself.

"Shove off…"

"No!" Ron yelled for the third time that night, restraining his best mate. He let him go when Harry had calmed down, and the leader moved back to his brothers. Ron could now see that Draco was only interested in fighting him, likely in revenge for kissing Hermione at the dance. Therefore, he concluded that he might be able to talk some sense into Draco by refusing to fight at all, thereby ending the conflict.

"I don't want it, Draco," Ron admitted honestly.

"Oh, I'm sure," Draco answered sarcastically, before giving him another goading punch on the arm.

"Now listen to me-"

"Are you chicken?"

"There's nothing to fight about-"

"Come on, come on-"

Throughout this exchange, Draco backed Ron up, giving him punches in the arm all the way. Shouting and protests arose from both sides, but Ron held firm. Frustrated at his "opponent's" resolute pacifism, Draco finally slapped Ron across the face. The Phoenixes tried to push Ron forward, but Ron wheeled around and shot down their encouragements to fight. "You don't understand!"

"Understand, chicken!" Draco roared before kicking Ron in the back from behind.

That did it. Ron spun into the center ring, fists cocked. Cheers rose up and words of encouragement; even the Dementors were encouraging Ron to fight now, curious to see what he could do. And it looked as though Draco was finally going to get his wish. But as Ron looked at Draco, he couldn't help but think back to Hermione. He had been sent here to stop a fight, not start one. He also recalled how much Hermione loved Draco as a brother, and that he, Ron, loved Hermione more than anything. He couldn't do it. He unclenched his fists and lowered them.

Draco looked shocked. Just when he thought he would be getting his revenge that had been brewing for the past day, Ron gave up. "Say," he called for all to hear, "he _is_ chicken!" He spun around Ron to get to his gang brothers, giving his enemy a tiny kick as he went. The Dementors laughed at the taunt and began to join their captain in the fun. Draco now began to give Ron playful slaps in the face and tousle his hair, the other Dementors following his lead with taunts of "Pretty Boy" and "Chicken." They even clucked like chickens, too. All the while, Ron backed away, refusing to fight and pleading with Draco to stop. In fact, he was so focused on getting away from the Dementors, that he didn't watch where he was going and backed up right into the Phoenixes- Neville, to be precise. Neville reflexively pushed Ron away. Ron wheeled around, even his patience beginning to thin. "DON'T PUSH ME!" he screamed at Neville.

If you had asked anyone who was there, there was some wonder as to just what made Harry do it. Maybe it was because he couldn't stand the sight of his best mate being humiliated any longer, or maybe it was because he panicked at the thought of his rumble unraveling into a circus sideshow. Whatever the reason, some have concluded that the Boy Who Lived simply snapped.

At Ron's latest outburst, Harry hauled and punched Draco across the face with all the strength he could muster. The Dementor leader fell backwards about 10 feet and hit the ground, yet was back on his feet in an instant. Draco's hand flew to his right eye, where a black bruise was already beginning to form. He turned back to Harry. If he had been shocked before, he was now stunned.

Harry looked just as dumbstruck. For a long tense moment, nobody spoke. Nobody moved. No one even breathed. Without speaking or taking his eyes off of Draco, Harry shed his robes and cast them aside; some Phoenix caught them. After a moment, Harry and Draco simultaneously drew a small object from their back pocket. It glinted in the moonlight, and at first, Ron thought they were wands. But, no, it was a Muggle weapon, one that his father had showed him with great care as a child. He had to search before the word came to him: _switchblade_.

The gangs' two commanders began to circle each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ron knew that if he wanted this thing to end peacefully, he had to end it now. He launched himself at Harry.

"No! Harry what are you doing?"

"Get out of here, Ron!" Harry ordered, throwing his friend off of him and turning back to Draco. "Harry, don't!" When Ron persisted in his advance, Harry yelled to no one in particular "Hold him!" Neville and Seamus rushed forward and dragged Ron away. So great was their unease about the impending confrontation that neither of them noticed when they brought Ron over to the Dementor side of the court.

"Neville! Let me go!" Ron screamed. Members of both gangs formed a circle around their leaders, ready to jump in at a moment's notice if things got out of hand.

For a minute, two, Harry and Draco took tiny stabs at the air, trying to wig their opponent out. Finally, Draco slashed in a circle; Harry jumped back and kicked Draco's knife away when his opponent advanced. The pair spun around to new sides of the ring. The two took jabs at each other's arms and missed, until Harry blocked Draco's arm with his own as the latter tried to perform an overhand stab. The jolt from the contact caused Harry's knife to fly out of his hand in a high arch. Harry kicked Draco in the butt so that the latter fell, thus allowing the former time to retrieve his weapon. When Harry couldn't find it, he turned back, now defenseless, as Draco came at him again. Harry fell into a backward roll as Draco tackled him, flipping him off, then kick-flipping back to his feet. He whirled around as Draco crawled forward to recover his knife, which had fallen from his grasp during the roll. Harry tried to stomp on the knife or Draco's hand as he came near, and Draco retaliated by swinging his foot around into Harry's leg, knocking the Chosen One to the ground. The two leaders jumped to their feet and Harry flushed himself against the fence Ron had climbed over, just as the Phoenixes and Dementors rushed in to assist.

"KEEP OUTTA THIS!" Harry roared. Everyone froze. An eerie silence fell upon the court, broken only by Ron's cries.

"Somebody stop him! Lemme go! Neville! Seamus!"

Slowly, the boys backed up to the outside of the ring. Draco turned back to his enemy; he was breathing heavily. He flipped his knife to his left hand unexpectedly, then back to his right, before rushing Harry again. Harry sidestepped his jab, grabbing Draco's knife as he tried to desperately wrestle it away from the Dementor leader. The two spun around, arms linked, and Draco twisted Harry's arm to loosen the latter's grip and throw him off. Harry fell to the ground.

"Harry!" called out Dean Thomas. Again, Draco charged, but the two slid along the concrete to opposite sides to avoid each other. Harry scrambled to his feet. "Harry, here!" called Dean again, offering his captain his knife. Harry took it gratefully and turned to face Draco. Both took wider jabs at each other and missed; Harry kicked Draco's knife away for the second time, this time with such force that Draco fell to the ground. Draco frantically rolled away as Harry rushed forward and pounced on top of him. The Boy Who Lived held his knife high over his head, ready to deliver the Slytherin's death-blow.

At that moment, Ron broke free of Neville and Seamus. "Harry, don't," he cried as he grabbed Harry and physically dragged him away by his knife arm. Harry squirmed out of Ron's grasp and charged forward…right into Draco's waiting knife. Harry's eyes bugged out. Silence reigned as the Phoenix leader slowly turned to look at his best mate. With his last ounce of strength, he held the knife out to Ron before collapsing to the ground. Ron caught Harry and examined him. The Boy Who Lived was dead. Draco could only stand there with his knife, now stained with Harry's blood, staring uncomprehendingly at what he had just done.

Ron's grief suddenly turned into a rage long overdue. He took Harry's knife and glared at Draco.

"Draco, run!" called Cormac, but Draco didn't move; he was in a state of shock. Ron rushed forward with a great yell and plunged Harry's knife into the stomach of his lover's adopted brother. Draco screamed as he fell to the ground, now dead himself.

The tension broke with the force of a bomb. "Get him!" someone yelled as several Dementors pounced on Ron, pummeling him. Those that remained engaged with each other one-on-one. The rumble was now a full-fledged melee. Ron struggled futily as he was punched, clawed and kicked on all sides; he could hear the screams and yells of his mates ringing in his ears. _I'm sorry, Hermione,_ he thought, _I'm sorry I couldn't stop it. I love you so much, please forgive me._

After only a few minutes, sirens pierced the air. One by one, all combatants' heads snapped to the sound and the fighting ceased as quickly as it had started.

"Out of here, quickly," hissed Neville. The groups split; Dementors scaling the chain link fence, Phoenixes clearing the stone wall with one leap and a pull-up from a friend. No one remembered Ron, and he was left to lie there, battered but alive, besides the bodies of Draco and Harry.

With great effort, Ron dragged himself over to Draco's corpse. Only then, as he stared at the body, did the full realization of what he had done hit him in the face.

"HERMIONEEEE!" he screamed in anguish and his body convulsed with sobs; he didn't even hear the sirens coming closer and closer. Suddenly, he felt someone shaking him.

"Come on, Ron!" Colin Creevey's voice broke through the fog. "Ron, what are you doing? The Aurors are coming! We have to move!" Ron allowed himself to be dragged away from the courts and into a tunnel and safety, as the lights from Auror's sirens danced over the two forms lying on the blacktop.


	7. Chapter 7: Somewhere

**Chapter 7: Somewhere**

That night, Hermione was on the roof of the apartment complex where she, her parents and the pure-bloods lived. She was blissfully waiting for Ron to return to report that the rumble had been diffused. She knew he would be able to do it; who could resist that adorable lop-sided grin of his? As she dreamed of the memories she and her lover would make that night, she began to dance gracefully around, barely able to contain her joy.

Her reverie was interrupted when the door leading downstairs opened with a bang. She turned to see Cormac staring at her. He was breathing hard, he looked dirty and his eyes were wet.

"Hermione, come inside where it's safe."

"I'm alright, Cormac-"

"Please, now! The Aurors will be here soon if we aren't careful. They'll be asking questions about the rumble."

"Oh, there was no rumble," Hermione laughed as she turned back to the skyline with a smile.

"Yes, there was." Cormac rebutted, and something about the heaviness in his voice made her take pause and turn back to him. "It was going to be a fair fight between Draco and Neville Longbottom, but it escalated. Draco and Potter pulled knives on each other, and they both got sta- sta- stabbed." Cormac barely finished before the tears came.

Panic filled Hermione, so much so that she forgot who she was talking to when she blurted out, "And Ron? What happened to Ron, Cormac? Is Ron alright?" Cormac's eyes flashed to meet hers, and she was chilled by the anger she saw in them. His face went from ghostly pale to red to purple. Finally he screamed in her face, "HE KILLED YOUR BROTHER!" before storming downstairs.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, hardly daring to believe her ears. _Draco…dead? My Ronniekins killed him?_ No, she could not believe it, she would not believe it. She flew downstairs and jumped when she heard a cry of anguish. Looking around a corner, she saw several girls supporting Pavarti.

"No, no, no, Draco isn't, he isn't dead!" she wailed.

"Cormac says he saw the body himself, Pavarti. We're so sorry."

Horrified, Hermione ran into her room and locked the door. She knelt before a small statue of the Virgin Mary that was on a shelf.

"Oh Mother of God, please don't let it be true. Please don't say that Draco and Harry are dead. I know I don't usually pray like this to you, but please, please don't let it be true. Please tell me Ron is safe. I'd never forgive myself if I sent him to his death at that rumble. I'd never forgive-" she froze when she saw someone through the mirror enter from her window. There was a shock of red hair. Ron. She slowly turned to him. Both stared at each other silently. Then, she launched herself upon him, the cries of anguish claiming her at last.

"KILLER! KILLER! KILL-LL-ER!" she sobbed as she beat on his muscular chest with her fists. She wondered if she was really angry at him, or was just doing so to feel some pain from Draco's death. Ron took it like a man, before wrapping his arms around her and seating them onto the small couch in the room.

"I tried to stop it," he told her. "I never wanted to fight Draco, but Harry…you and I both know, he was like a brother to us when we were little. He tried to protect me from Draco and when Draco stabbed him…I don't know what came over me, I couldn't stand it. Can you ever forgive me?" He wiped away her tears and gazed at her. "I'll make sure you are not harmed because of what happened tonight. I'm going to turn myself in to the Aurors."

"NO!" Hermione cried as she reached for his hand and clung to it like a lifeline. "I forgive you, Ron. I love you! Stay, stay with me!" she begged.

"Hermione, I love you so much," Ron gasped as he took her in his arms.

"Don't leave me!" she pleaded.

"Whatever you want, I'll do it."

"Hold me."

"Forever," Ron vowed. He could think of no better fate than to have Hermione wrapped in his arms for all eternity. "Everything'll be alright. We're really together now!"

Hermione sniffled. "But it's not us. It's everything around us."

"Then, I'll take you away, where nothing can get to us," Ron promised. "Not anyone or anything." The pair reaffirmed their love that night, promising to never abandon each other. Ron kissed Hermione and both lowered themselves onto her bed. They took comfort in making love to each other.

* * *

The sky was just beginning to gray when Ron and Hermione awoke. Both were tangled in the bedsheets and each other's embrace, naked. When they had both shaken the sleep from their systems, they decided to play a game. Hermione had gotten the brilliant idea that her parents might accept Ron if he knew more about Muggle customs. So, she quizzed him on all things Muggle using magic to conjure images from her wand.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

"I think so," Ron confirmed.

"Ok, here we go."

The images appeared in rapid succession. A concrete sidewalk and lamppost appeared.

"Corner," said Ron.

Walmart.

"Store."

An LED bulb.

"Lightbulb."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"I'm…sure," Ron affirmed.

Hermione smiled. "3 out of 3, you did alright."

Ron grinned back. He was rather enjoying this game. "Teach me a little more."

A candle flame.

"Heat." He grinned as he thought of another kind of heat and began to trail kisses down Hermione's neck.

The moon.

"Last night," Ron breathed against her skin.

A scab with a band-aid.

"Pain."

Hermione grinned and blushed. "That's right," she told him.

A telephone.

"Call me."

Ron's eyes.

"Blue."

A heart.

"Love me."

"Perhaps I do," Hermione whispered seductively. Ron laughed and flipped himself on top of her, ready to resume having sex. Before they could begin Phase 2 of their love-making, however, there was a knock at the door.

"Hermione?" Pavarti's voice called. Her voice sounded raspy, as though she had been crying all night.

Ron and Hermione froze, and then began to throw their clothes on as quickly and quietly as they could.

"I'm going to go to the Leaky Cauldron and borrow money from Tom. Meet me there tonight after everyone is asleep and we'll run away and elope," Ron told her.

Hermione nodded, her heart fluttering at the last word. There was another knock at the door. "Hermione?" called Pavarti. "One moment, Pavarti," called Hermione. She turned back to Ron.

"Stay out of sight today, you don't want to get caught by the Aurors." She pulled him into a tight embrace, leaning her head against his chest. "Be careful," she told him.

Ron kissed her passionately and touched his hand to her cheek. "I will."

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her check into his hand. Then, she felt him let go and opened her eyes just in time to see him slipping out the window. A third knock jolted her back to her senses and she rushed to open the door. Pavarti stood there, eyebrows raised.

"What took you so long? And who were you talking to?"

"I wasn't talking to anybody."

Pavarti frowned and marched over to the window. She watched as Ron jogged down the alleyway below to the street. At the entrance, she saw a figure suddenly approach Ron and hug him. Then, the two disappeared into the early morning together.

Pavarti whirled on Hermione. "You are still SEEING HIM? AFTER WHAT HE DID TO MY BOYFRIEND? TO ME? YOU ARE WITH A BOY WHO KILLED YOUR ADOPTED BROTHER? HOW CAN YOU LOVE A BOY WHO KILLS? A BOY WHO KILLS CANNOT LOVE!" Rage was not a strong enough term for what Pavarti was feeling; she looked quite demented.

Hermione tried to reason with her. "Ron did not mean to kill Draco. He's honest, he's sweet, he would never do anything to hurt me intentionally. I love him!"

"So you love him?" Pavarti spat. "What he did was wrong!"

Hermione wanted to cry. "You loved Draco, Pavarti," she said in a small voice. "Can't you let me love someone, too?"

Pavarti studied her silently for a moment. At long last, she pulled Hermione into a hug. All seemed to be forgiven.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. "Ministry of Magic! Open up!" a voice boomed.

Hermione and Pavarti exchanged panicked glances. It seemed Cormac had called it right when he said the Aurors would be showing up. Pavarti went to the door, hoping the pause had not garnered suspicion. There stood Daedulus Diggle. He flashed his badge at her.

"Daedulus Diggle, Deputy Head Auror. I have a few questions for you regarding a gang fight under Warlock Bridge last night?"

Pavarti numbly ushered Diggle inside. When the Auror saw Hermione, his eyes narrowed. He remembered she had been a source of trouble at the dance a few nights earlier. Once the circumstances came to memory, he stepped toward her eagerly.

"Just the girl I wanted to see. Ms. Granger-" he began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Officer, I would love to answer questions, but I have to run an errand. Medical reasons," she lied with an alarming ease.

But Diggle wouldn't budge. He had encountered this kind of evasiveness before during interrogations. Persons of interest would convince Aurors they needed to be somewhere before submitting to questioning, and then beat it and never come back. Nevertheless, Diggle kept up his casual, calming front.

"Ms. Patil can get it for you," he offered.

Hermione looked to Patil and then asked her to go to the Leaky Cauldron to pick up her "medicine."

"Tell Tom I've been detained," she finished.

Pavarti nodded slowly, indicating that she had understood the coded message behind the request. She quickly left.

Diggle turned back to Hermione. "A few nights ago, you were with a boy at the dance. We believe he has, ah, connections to one of the gangs in this area. Who was the boy?" he asked.

Hermione knew if she divulged Ron's identity, he would be caught and sent to prison. If she lied, she might get away with, or risk getting caught for perjury and sent to prison herself. So, she took the lesser of the two evils.

She lied.

"Brandon," she said. "Brandon Dudley."

Diggle nodded, thanked her and left. As soon as he was gone, Hermione smiled to herself. She did not have to worry about Brandon.

Because Brandon didn't exist.


	8. Chapter 8: Keep It Cool

**Chapter 8: Keep it Cool**

In the aftermath of the rumble, the Phoenixes had fled in a dozen different directions. After searching for stragglers most the night, the gang finally regrouped in front of a garage devoted to Wizarding produce delivery trucks. Needless to say, everyone was pretty shaken, and turned to Neville, the gang's de facto leader.

"Did you see their faces?" asked Michael Corner.

"Whose?" asked Terry Boot.

"At the rumble. Harry and Draco," Michael said. "When they got…you know…"

The pondering was interrupted when Dean suddenly kicked a stray butterbeer can into a yardside fence, where it shattered. "Those bloody Dementors are gonna bloody pay for this! If they think that's a rumble, they ain't seen nothing yet! It's war now! We're gonna blast them to Kingdom Come!"

"No, don't!" pleaded Michael. "If we do, more of us will get offed! I don't wanna die!"

Dean whirled on him. "What are you, scared?"

"Hey, come on, Dean, Michael's right. Bugger off…"

"You bugger off!" Dean roared.

The sudden crash of a spell hitting the garage wall next to them made the boys look up.

"OI! D'ya have any idea what time it is? If you don't shove off, I'll hex the lot of you and call the Aurors!" called a voice from an upstairs apartment window.

"Hey I'll hex your turtle right off, pal!" Dean threatened, shaking his fist at the man. The window of the apartment slammed shut with a bang.

"You see? This is what I'm talking about, Dean! You never know when to quit! This kind of attitude is exactly what got us here- and you still are coming back for more!"

Dean drew his wand and pointed it at Terry. "You wanna run that by me again, Boot?"

"Gladly," said Terry, raising his own wand. "I'll just let my spells do the talking…you sadist!"

A crash could be heard as Dean threw a curse at Terry and missed; Terry responded in kind. Other Phoenixes drew their wands, shouting at each other; two factions had indeed formed. Suddenly, a blue energy field erupted between the rifts, knocking everyone to the ground.

Neville stood towering over them, his rage palpable on ever part of his face: 1. Because he couldn't believe his men were fighting each other, 2. Because he was enraged that Dean had dared to usurp his authority and 3. Because, deep down, he was just as angry as some of them about the rumble's outcome. He just knew better than to express the latter openly.

Hauling everyone to their feet, Neville pointed his wand at them threateningly and jerked it toward the garage door. Then, he turned and marched inside. His men followed him into the darkened space, protesting loudly.

They were permanently quelled when a light suddenly glared on them. Neville had turned on the headlights of one of the delivery trucks.

"You lot got enough sense left in ya to listen?" Neville asked. The others nodded slowly.

"Well, then, listen. If you all keep carrying on like this, we might get sent to Azkaban. If we go after the Dementors too soon, we'll definitely get sent to Azkaban. If we crack under questioning by the Aurors, we'll get arrested and tried…. And then we'll get sent to Azkaban."

"Your point?" asked Seamus, raising an eyebrow.

"My point is…play it cool. Anybody asks you what went on tonight, you know _nothing_. You do nothing, you say nothing. Just keep cool, and we'll be alright."

Everyone needed various degrees of convincing, Dean especially, but soon the raw emotions had subsided and the Phoenixes soon left to deal with their grief another way. Go get a drink.


	9. Chapter 9: Don't Play with the Messenger

**Chapter 9: Don't Play with the Messenger**

Neville and his men marched into the Leaky Cauldron, exhaustion coupling with their grief. Besides feeling whipped from the rumble, none had realized how big a city London was or how far of a walk it would be to the wizarding pub until now; it was now early morning. The Phoenixes were surprised to find a friend waiting for them.

"Colin! Merlin's pants, we forgot about you! Where the hell have you been?"

Colin smiled. "Damage control. I'm not the only one you forgot last night. We left Ron, too."

Now, Neville was really upset. "Oh my god! Where is he? If the Dementors get their hands on him…."

"Downstairs in the basement. I found him in an alleyway early this morning. Near the apartment complex where the Dementors live, no less."

"You probably just saved him, then! Wait…what the bloody hell was he doing near there, anyway?"

"He asked to be brought here, said he needed some Galleons from Tom. I'm gonna go check on him." Colin rose to leave and opened the door that led to the basement.

"Hey," Neville suddenly said. Colin turned. "I'm sorry we left you last night. You done good, Creevey. Real good." Colin smiled, and closed the door behind him.

Everyone else collapsed into chairs gratefully. Colin came back from the basement, this time with Tom, who served everyone in record time and then went downstairs again.

A few minutes later, the bell over the door jingled. Everyone turned their heads to see Pavarti standing in the doorway.

Both parties clearly recognized each other, for nobody moved and an awkward silence took command of the room. Pavarti visibly squirmed under the Phoenixes' glares.

"I'm looking for Ron Weasley," she said as confidently as she could.

The Phoenixes exchanged glances with each other, thinking they knew the purpose of Pavarti's coming. "He ain't here," Neville spat.

Pavarti didn't move. "He works here, doesn't he? This is his shift?"

"Called in sick today," Seamus shot back readily.

Pavarti wasn't going to be fooled. She knew from these boys' body language that something was up. Naturally, they would want to protect their friend, if malintention had been her purpose for coming, but it wasn't. This was for Hermione; this was important. And she now suspected, more than ever, that Ron was here.

She spied the door leading down to the basement. Bingo. If Ron wasn't down there, she was Albus Dumbledore.

"Mind if I check the basement?" she asked, casually walking over. Dean quickly blocked the entrance.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Tom doesn't let anyone into his wine cellar."

"I'm sure if he knew the circumstances, he would understand," Pavarti retorted, trying to ease past him, but Dean held firm.

"No, I don't think he would," Dean purred. "And anyways, what's your rush? You look like you need some male company. Your boyfriend's dead now, ain't he?" He brushed his hand across her face. The tactic worked; Pavarti backed away. The other Phoenixes exchange puzzled glances. If this was Dean's version of a distraction, they may have had other things in mind or done it differently. But, seeing as it was working for the moment, they decided to play along.

Soft touches soon escalated into bolder advances. The boys did not take it too far, but they were in the territory of what could be called "mock-rape." Pavarti tried to fight them off to no avail, and soon she was on the ground, buried under the gang, screaming for help.

Suddenly, rough hands violently threw the Phoenixes every which way; Tom had rushed up from the basement to see what the commotion was about. He helped a dishelved Pavarti to her feet.

Silence reigned once again. Pavarti was shaken, but angry too. So many reasons for this angst led her to say what she said next.

"Draco was right about you! All of you! You're nothing but pigs! If I saw one of you lying in the street cursed or bleeding, I would walk right by you and spit on you! Now, I have a message for your little friend downstairs in the basement: you tell him that Hermione is dead! Cormac found out about them, and shot her!"

With that, she stormed out. The door slammed on silence, but the malediction wasn't over.

"Alright, all of you! That's it! That is it! How low are you gonna stoop, messing around with an innocent girl! GET OUTTA MY PUB, NOW!"

Shocked at even Tom's turn on them, the Phoenixes quickly left. Tom leaned against the counter and sighed. He finally found enough strength in him to return to the basement. This was not going to be easy.

* * *

Ron was downstairs, rushing around and gathering a few last-minute supplies. He looked up when Tom approached.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tom lied.

"Great," said Ron, and he continued to pack, grinning from ear to ear. "You know what, Tom, I'll never forget what you've done for me, for Hermione. When we're married and have kids, we're gonna name all of them Tom, even the girls!"

"Ron, there's something I need to tell you…"

"And we're gonna live in the country, someplace where you can see the sky…"

"Ron, you don't understand, this is important…"

"I'll get a nice job and Hermione can use her magnificent brains to do something big…"

"Ron, I don't know if that'll turn out that way…"

"And the kids'll go to Hogwarts and-"

WHAM! Frustrated at Ron's lack of listening, Tom slapped him hard across the face before breaking down.

"What does it take to get through to you?" he blubbered. When Ron did not respond, he continued solemnly. "That was Hermione's friend, Pavarti Patil, upstairs. Hermione is dead! Cormac found out about you and her…. And shot her!"

Ron's face visibly twitched, it looked as though it would shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest touch.

Then it did. When Tom reached out to comfort him, Ron brushed him without looking at him. "No," he said simply, in denial. Then the tears came. "NO!" he screamed before rushing out of the basement.

Tom tried to follow him; he knew if Ron set foot outside the pub, he would be at the mercy of the Dementors who wanted his blood. But the old man tripped on the stairs and fell on his face. He lay there, sobbing. He had been right when he thought things would become a whole lot worse. Things were now deadly.


	10. Chapter 10: The Final Blow

**Chapter 10: The Final Blow**

"CORMAC!" Ron's voice reverberated throughout the warm night; he had been searching for his lover's murderer most of the day, to no avail. "COME ON, KILL ME TOO, CORMAC! I'M RIGHT HERE! I'M READY!" He paused, panting, by a corner lightpost. The memory of the game he had played with Hermione in her bed sent a whole new wave of grief crashing over him.

"Please," he wheezed, hoarse from the yelling. When he had caught his breath, he resumed. "CORMAC! CORMAC!"

A scuff on the pavement made him wheel around, ready to face death, but it was only Colin.

"Ron, what are you doing outside the pub? I thought I told you to stay there!"

"Get out of here," Ron moaned, turning away.

"You're dead if the Dementors find you. You need to hide!"

"Goddammit, Colin, I don't care anymore!" Ron seized the boy by the collar. "Leave me alone! You like cameras, right? Go play with your camera!" Colin raced away, frightened by the unhinged Ron. Ron kept up his chant, hearing from and encountering no one else. He finally found himself at the blacktop where Colin had been pummeled by the Dementors a few days earlier. "CORMAC!" he screamed one last time in frustration.

"RON!"

Ron wheeled around. There in a pool of light from a streetlamp across the blacktop was… was he seeing things? Was she a ghost? Had it come to that?

No. "Hermione?" he croaked. When the figure moved forward, he could see it was her!

"HERMIONE!" he screamed in joy now, and the two lovers ran across the blacktop, arms outstretched, ready to embrace each other.

Suddenly, another figure came wheeling out of the shadows from behind Ron. The light of the moon flashed across the silver of a barrel as it spit fire.

BANG! Ron stumbled slightly forward and into Hermione's arms. It took her a moment to realize something was wrong. Ron's face was paling, his eyes were wide. Seeing blood pouring from his back, she gently lay him down on the curb.

"I…I didn't think…it would hurt this much," Ron got out, shaking from the effects of the bullet.

Hermione stared at him, and she began to cry. She cradled him in her arms and told him she loved him. After a few moments, Ron was still. He was gone.

Hermione looked up to see Cormac standing over her, staring at what he had done. The gun clattered on the pavement as it slipped from his hand.

Suddenly, the sound of running feet could be heard as Dementors and Phoenixes alike stormed into the blacktop. They halted at the sight that lay before them. After a few seconds to sum up what had happened, the two gangs moved deliberately and furiously towards each other.

"STOP IT!" Everyone stopped and stared at Hermione. There was a long silence as she stood and picked up the gun. She studied it curiously, the way a small child would.

"How many left, Cormac?" she asked, the softness of her voice conveying her anguish. "How do fire this thing, Cormac? Do you just…pull THIS LITTLE TRIGGER!" She whirled on the two gangs and prodded the weapon at each of them in turn. "AND THERE ARE BULLETS? ONE FOR YOU, YOU? ALL OF YOU!" Her voice cracked as the tears came back with a vengeance. "YOU AND YOUR FIGHTING! YOU ALL KILLED MY LOVER! AND DRACO! AND HARRY! I'M GONNA SHOOT AS MANY OF YOU AS I CAN AND STILL HAVE ONE BULLET LEFT FOR MYSELF! I CAN KILL NOW, TOO…BECAUSE I CAN HATE NOW!" Her sights rested on Cormac, who flinched, his eyes warily on the gun. The weapon shook as Hermione tried to steel herself to off her lover's murderer first.

But she couldn't do it. She threw the gun away and collapsed on the pavement in despair. By this time, Kingsley and Diggle had arrived, the latter of whom approached Hermione.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Hermione shrieked, throwing herself over Ron. Diggle stopped dead. After a moment, Dean came forward. He tentatively reached out and helped Hermione to her feet. He turned back to Ron's body. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for help. Michael and Terry came forward. The three tried to lift Ron, staggering under his weight, until-

Goyle instinctively reached out an arm to help steady the body. Everyone froze, but after a long moment, they let him near. Crabbe joined the group, and the two gangs marched away in a make-shift funeral procession, as Cormac was arrested and Hermione was led away.


End file.
